


Pinky Promises

by kiwiana



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-22
Updated: 2010-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/kiwiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The party seems to have been coordinated by a man, which Jared is pretty sure is completely against tradition. The guy is absolutely gorgeous—as well as more than a little wasted—and Jared is having trouble keeping his eyes off him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinky Promises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enablelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enablelove/gifts).



> Based on a Text From Last Night that read: "I made the bartender pinky promise me there was still vodka in my drinks."
> 
> The closest I ever came to owning these characters is an iPod named Padackles. No harm, no foul, and no offence is intended by using them for my own ends.
> 
> Originally published on LiveJournal 2010-08-22.

On Friday nights, Jared has a love-hate relationship with his job.

Most days, being a bartender is awesome—he gets to chat with all sorts of people, he doesn’t have some dreary uniform and best of all, he isn’t stuck behind a desk from nine to five Monday to Friday. Okay, maybe being behind a bar isn’t  _exactly_  how he saw his life turning out, but hey. It’s a good job with great co-workers, and Jared’s not going to complain.

Fridays, though. Jared doesn’t know what it is about Fridays that brings out a level of crazy infinitely more frightening than the rest of the week, but it’s an infallible phenomenon. On Fridays, girls vomit in dark corners for the staff to—hopefully—find after they close, men get into brawls due to imagined slights and a need for overcompensation, and couples decide that the fucking pool table is an appropriate place for coitus. The other six days of the week are almost boring in comparison.

Take tonight, for example. Amongst the usual suspects—college students mainly, flaunting fake ID’s, only some of which are even passable—is a bachelorette party who are getting louder and shriller as the night goes on. The bachelorettes themselves aren’t actually causing much trouble, more entertaining than annoying, but Jared’s keeping a close eye on them, just in case.

The party seems to have been coordinated by a man, which Jared is pretty sure is completely against tradition. The guy is absolutely gorgeous—as well as more than a little wasted—and Jared is having trouble keeping his eyes off him. He has seriously stunning eyes; Jared watches the way they crinkle up in the corners as he laughs along with the women. Chad, slipping back behind the bar after his break, notices the slightly dazed stare and waves his hand in front of Jared’s face.

“Dude, stop perving on the drunk guy. It’s creepy,” Chad advises.

Jared shakes his head, trying to clear the fog in his brain. “Huh?” he says eloquently, turning to look at his co-worker.

“Stop. Perving. On the drunk guy. You’re practically fucking drooling.”

“I’m not drooling,” Jared says defensively. “Besides, you take drunk co-eds home more than you take home tips. I don’t think you’re in any position to judge.”

Chad smirks. “Yeah, but I take them home because I actually go  _talk_  to them. I don’t stand behind the bar with my mouth hanging open like some kind of creeper.”

Jared rolls his eyes and moves to serve the girl standing at the end of the bar, surreptitiously wiping his mouth once he’s turned away from Chad.

“I’m not fucking drooling,” he mutters under his breath before smiling at the woman. “What can I get you?”

“Uh, yeah, we were just wondering if you guys have any tacks back there? We kind of need them for a party game and Jen forgot to pick them up,” she says.

“We’ve probably got some around here somewhere,” Jared replies as he starts rummaging through the drawers. He finds a box of tacks, but hesitates before handing them over. “Do I want to know what the party game is? And more importantly, should I have an ambulance on standby?”

“An ambulance hopefully won’t be necessary. We’re pinning a leaf on a naked guy—not a real one!” she hastens to add when Jared’s eyes widen. “A picture.”

“Oh, that makes perfect sense. Well, except for the fact that you’re covering him up,” Jared winks. “Did you make your friend buy a round for forgetting the tacks?”

The girl laughs, flicking her hair behind her back. “Well, he organized the whole party, so we’re being reasonably forgiving,” she says, and Jared realizes that ‘Jen’ is the guy he’s been staring at for most of the night. “It’s his round next, though.”

Jared gulps as she picks the box of tacks up off the bar and heads back to her friends.

* * *

It’s almost half an hour before Jared turns to serve the next customer and finds himself staring straight into a pair of bright green eyes.

“Apparently it’s my turn to buy,” Jen says, grinning. It takes Jared’s brain a few seconds to catch up.

“Right! Drinks, yeah. What are y’all having?”

“Uh…” the guy does a quick headcount. “Fourteen vodka and cokes?”

“Sure thing,” Jared says, arranging the glasses on a tray. “So, tell me to shut up if I’m being nosy, but how’d you end up at a bachelorette party? I thought those things were women-only.”

Jen scratches the back of his head. “I’m the maid of honor,” he says, wincing as the words come out of his mouth. Jared tries not to laugh—really, he does—but he can’t help it. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Jen mutters. “Danni and I have been best friends since middle school, so apparently I was the ‘obvious choice’.” He makes air quotes as he says it, wrinkling his nose slightly.

“And the other girls don’t mind you being here?” Jared asks, not even bothering to tell himself it’s professional curiosity.

“Nah. I’m one of them,” he grins, then looks up at Jared like he’s not sure what reaction he’s going to get, and that’s when the penny drops. Jared swallows hard.

“Well, they’re lucky to have you,” he says truthfully as he pours the last drink. “You okay with this?”

Jen nods as he picks up the tray. “Thanks, man,” he says, smiling.

Jared watches him head back to his friends. He pretends he’s making sure Jen’s okay with the tray, but really, he’s admiring the way the guy’s ass looks in those jeans.

He’s only human, after all.

* * *

It’s much, much later when Jen staggers back up to the bar.

“Whoa, you okay man?” Jared asks, concerned. He hasn’t been keeping as close an eye on the party as he should have been, and he’s worried that he should have cut them off before now.

Jensen slides onto a barstool. “I didn’t introduce myself before. I’m Jensen,” he says, holding out his hand. The words are slurred, but not so much as to worry Jared—he figures it’s just the first time Jensen’s stood up in a while.

“Jared,” he replies, taking Jensen’s hand in his own. “What can I get you, buddy?”

Jensen leans in close, like he’s about to confide a deep secret. Jared mirrors his action without thinking, until they’re almost nose to nose. 

“I don’t drink that often,” Jensen whispers earnestly, huffing warm breath over Jared’s cheek.

“I kind of figured,” Jared whispers back.

“The girls said I’m not allowed to drink any more.”

“Well, that was mean of them,” Jared says, trying to keep a straight face. Jensen reaches over the bar, taking Jared’s hand in his own and squeezing tightly as Jared tries very hard to keep all his blood in his upstairs brain.

“I want you to promise you’ll keep putting vodka in my coke, Jared,” he begs.

Jared nods. “All right,” he says softly. “I’ll keep serving you until I legally can’t, okay?”

Jensen smiles, and it’s only then that Jared realizes their hands are still entwined. Jensen obviously notices, too, glancing down at his own hand.

“Pinky promise?” Jensen asks. Jared can’t hold back his laughter any longer.

“What is this, third grade?” he asks, trying to pull his hand back. Jensen’s eyes widen.

“Man, third grade was  _awesome_. Don’t you miss getting the crusts cut off your sandwiches and playing with Legos?”

“I see your point,” Jared says.

“So, pinky promise. Pinky promises can’t be broken, Jared. Playground rules apply,” Jensen says, hooking his little finger through Jared’s.

Jared sighs. “Jensen, I pinky promise to keep giving you alcohol until I legally have to cut you off.”

The grin that splits Jensen’s face is absolutely blinding. “Thank you, Jared,” he says, utterly sincere. Then, in a move so fast Jared can’t process it, Jensen’s leaning over the bar and pressing their lips together. It’s quick, and there’s no tongue, but Jared’s heart is racing at a million miles an hour when Jensen pulls back.

“I’ll see you around?” he says. Jared can only nod as he goes back to his friends.

* * *

The bachelorette party disappears while Jared’s on a break, and he figures that’s the last he’ll see of the hot guy who made him pinky promise to give him vodka. That is, until Monday night, when he turns around to see a familiar—and sober-looking— face at the bar.

“Jensen, hey,” he says, trying and failing to keep the grin off his face. “I wasn’t sure you’d be back. Can I get you a drink?”

“Nah, man. I just came to ask you something,” he says. Jared’s brow furrows before he realizes—maybe Jensen can’t remember Friday night, and he just wants to know what happened. He swallows the flash of disappointment and raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“It’s just… I mean, if you can’t, or don’t want, or… I totally get it if…”

“Jensen, you need to ask me a question before I can tell you whether I can or not,” Jared teases.

“Do you want to go out sometime? Maybe?” Jensen blurts out in a rush.

“Yes.”

Jensen’s eyes widen at the directness of Jared’s answer. “Okay, awesome. Great,” he says. “So, I’ll just give you my number?”

“Sure,” Jared smiles, writing his own on a napkin and switching it with Jensen. “I’ve got Thursday off this week, if you want to go then? I know this great little Indian restaurant, their naan bread is absolutely to die for.”

Jensen nods. “That’d be great. So…” he folds the napkin with Jared’s number on it carefully before putting it on his pocket. “I’ll see you Thursday?”

At Jared’s nod, he turns to go. Jared calls him back, holding out his little finger.

“Pinky promise?” he asks, his eyes teasing. Jensen looks shell-shocked for a second before he starts laughing, reaching out to take Jared’s finger with his own.

“Pinky promise.”


End file.
